


Someone Else's Problem

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Attraction, Canon-Typical Violence, Foul Language, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Immortality, Mentions of Cults, Non Canonical Immortal, Problems, not my job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: When Amanda brings a newly immortal woman to Methos, passing her onto Duncan seems like the best way forward.
Relationships: Amanda Darieux & Methos (Highlander), Duncan MacLeod & Methos (Highlander), Methos & Original Female Character
Comments: 27
Kudos: 30
Collections: Highlander Holiday ShortCuts 2020





	Someone Else's Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adabsolutely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adabsolutely/gifts).



> Thanks to N for the beta and to Rhi for the encouragement.  
> Happy Holidays, adabsolutely!

Methos had settled into a comfortable sprawl on the couch in his house when the phone rang. He had applied considerable time to figuring out how to sprawl so his body did not fatigue when watching TV for hours. He contemplated not getting up, but swore as he remembered he had been expecting a call from Amanda. He snagged the phone off the coffee table as it ceased its ringing and saw the notification Raven and Moon Enterprises, LLC had sent him a text.

_Open the damned gate or I will scream._

A second later, the distinct warning of another immortal approaching assailed his senses. With another oath, he gave up on his plan to sit on the couch and mainline the next season of his new favorite TV show. Instead, he rose, slipped on his coat, and checked its pockets for his sword and his gun. He put on winter boots; it had rained the previous night, and the outside temperature hovered at above freezing. The sun had set for the day. 

The quarter-mile, cobblestone driveway to the front gate sloped downward. Methos had chosen this exclusive property for its privacy; the property line ended in a cliff that overlooked the lake. He swore as he slipped on the cobblestones but stayed upright.

Amanda wore a heavy wool cloak over a dark turquoise dress, black leggings, and knee-high boots. She had strapped a large tote bag across her body. The cloak hid her right arm as she supported a weight across her shoulder. The security lighting lit the area by the gate.

Amusement at imagining her telling Siri to send that message fled as Methos glimpsed what—or who—she carried.

Methos unlatched the gate and let Amanda inside.

Mindful of the slippery cobblestones, Amanda shifted the weight off her shoulder to the ground, revealing she had been carrying a dead body. Methos saw the dead body was female. She had a waterfall of turquoise-and-silver-streaked black hair and deep burnished-copper skin. A rose-gold sequined mini-dress glittered in the light. Lust sparked through him and he fought it down.

Relieved to not be carrying the weight, Amanda exhaled and shifted her shoulders, shaking off the pressure caused by the load.

“Where did you find her?”

“She ran out in front of my car and collapsed.” Amanda glared at him. “She’s going to be one of us. And if you’re going to stand there and stare, I’ll take your car and drive her home.”

“What happened to your car?”

“Wasn’t willing to drive up frozen cobblestones in a car with shitty tires and crappy steering alignment in the dark. If I’d known the damn thing had shitty tires and a tendency to pull to the left, I wouldn’t have rented it, but it was the last one on the lot. I already slid across the highway twice today.”

“Right. I’ll get the door.”

Methos opened the door and then helped Amanda bring the dead woman into the living room. The going was slow thanks to the icy conditions. The fact the woman stayed dead did not worry either of the immortals; resurrection tended to vary depending on the severity of the death.

The dead woman was no one Methos had ever met. Even without her turquoise-and-white-streaked long hair, she was distinctive. The sequined mini-dress hugged her ample curves, hourglass figure, and highlighted her muscular arms and legs. She wore no shoes and looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She had applied makeup to her heart-shaped face. Methos guessed her height to be around 5’2” or 5’3”. The attraction that had flared through him at first glance deepened.

“You couldn’t bring her down to Seacouver?” Methos griped even as he moved the coffee table out of the way, so Amanda had room to maneuver around the dead woman.

“Drive thirty miles out of my way when you were two miles uphill?” After stripping off her tote bag and cloak, Amanda knelt beside the dead woman. With a brisk efficiency Methos admired, Amanda searched her for what had caused her death, which she could not see.

“So much for thinking my address was private,” he sniped.

“Oh, hush. You said you wanted me to find you those journals; I came here to bring you them. Flew straight here myself because I didn’t trust FedEx to deliver them without messing them up and I needed to keep my pilot’s license current.”

Methos’s eyes widened. “You have them?”

“Yes.”

Amanda stopped his attempt to reach for her bag by extending her arm. “And you’ll receive them shortly. Just because you hate new immortals doesn’t bind you to teach them.”

“As if you weren’t thinking of dumping her on me.”

Amanda flashed a smile. “No, I figured you’d convince Duncan to do it. I need to leave tonight for Paris.” She looked down and swore. “Someone wanted her dead; no wonder it’s taking her a while.”

Methos crouched down to check the slowly healing marks left by a strangulation. He muttered an oath and debated whether he could convince Amanda to take this woman with her. “She must have broken free before she choked.”

“Yeah, but you know how long you can hang before you die.”

Methos stared at Amanda, surprised to hear the voice of experience. Then he reminded himself that people had hanged thieves for their crimes for centuries, and Amanda had always been a thief. “Yeah. Damn it, Amanda, you’d be better for her than me.”

“Methos, she has two brands on the inside of her thigh; one old and faded, and the other no older than two days. She’s going to need someone who can hide her until she’s strong enough to face whoever the hell branded her like cattle. If it’s who I think it is, then I most definitely need to be a thousand miles away. I dealt with the Tribe in Torago; I don’t want to tangle with them again. If she’s from a chapter of the Tribe here, that means the immortal I beheaded in Torago wasn’t the last of that cult.”

The oldest immortal sighed. “What do you know about them?”

“They’re the shadow council for a megachurch. The megachurch itself was named Venetian Hills when it was in Torago, but it imploded after I took Kraig Pollich’s head. I’ve been hearing rumors Venetian Hills had reorganized, but I haven’t been paying close attention. The megachurch styles itself as a modern Christian entity, but the Tribe deals in money, drugs, and sex.”

Methos swore. “You’d suit her better.”

“No.” Amanda’s tone brooked no argument. “I’m flying myself out of here tonight and there’s no room on my plane for a new immortal without a passport. Mac will be better for her once he knows her story. You know he’ll want to fix things.”

“Why can’t you ask Mac yourself?”

“Because that would mean admitting I lied to him and Nick about where I am right now. Plus, I know he has a new girlfriend who won’t like me; Joe’s already warned me to stay away. Duncan thinks I’m with Nick; Nick thinks I’m in Torago.”

Methos pursed his lips, realizing he had miscalculated. He had assumed Amanda would steal the journals, then show up in Seacouver. She would spend time with Duncan, and then leave, with Duncan none the wiser about why she had been in Seacouver. Amanda flying herself to deliver the journals meant she was under a time constraint. “I can’t convince you to delay your flight back?”

“Customs is looking at every international flight with twice the scrutiny, and I want to be in the air before the weather turns to freezing rain.” Amanda crossed her arms, annoyed. “Have you talked to Mac since Halloween or are you two arguing again?”

“His girlfriend is too possessive. He thinks I’m being unreasonable. She’s not comfortable knowing he has friends who have keys to his house and help themselves to his beer and food. I now can only show up when I’m invited.”

Amanda slanted him a look. “Yeah, that’s not good. Explains why Joe didn’t want me to even try.” She examined the woman she had rescued. “Maybe you should teach her instead, if he’s that busy.”

Unwilling to commit to that, Methos suggested, “If you’re leaving, you’d best go now, before she wakes. Leave the journals on the table; I’ll wire you the payment.”

Amanda nodded and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Methos. Let me know how it goes.” Looking relieved, Amanda extracted the promised journals from her tote bag. She put her cloak back on before exiting the house.

Methos had time to watch an episode of his favorite show. As the opening credits rolled for the next episode, the distinct sensation of a new immortal resurrecting tickled through him. Her gasp of breath seemed anticlimactic. He paused the TV to watch as the strange woman sat up, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Where am I?” She looked at him, revealing her eye color was a vivid green.

“In my house on Education Hill. I’m Adam Pierson.”

“Last thing I remember was a Corvette in the road. I was trying to flag the driver down and I got too close.” She put her head in her hands. “Why.... why do I have this headache? Why do you smell like the air after a lightning strike?”

“Let’s start with your name, and how you came to be here.” He passed her the glass of water he had prepared.

“Zhara John. That’s Zhara with a ‘zh’, not an ‘s’ like ‘sierra.’” She drank the water, draining the glass, before passing the glass back and pushing herself upright. “Education Hill.... that means we’re not in Seacouver. I was at party.... Damn it, my friends brought me up here. My father….” Her hand went to her throat. “I was choking while Carol was laughing at me. She told my father she’d make me cooperate. I remember running and losing my heels in the woods.” She looked around the living room. “Do you have a bathroom? I must look a mess.”

“Down the hall on the left.”

Methos waited, certain Zhara would take longer than usual. He heard the toilet flush and the faucet run, and when Zhara did not return, walked back to stand in the hallway. She had shut the powder room door; he knocked on it. “Everything OK?”

“No.” Zhara opened the door, looking worried and confused. “I’m not dreaming, am I? Because I remember fighting them while they were choking me. They shot me up with something, but it made my heart race, and I ran. But there aren’t any marks or bruises, and I could’ve sworn I had some.”

“You did, when you arrived. You ran out in front of a car.”

“Did you hit me?”

Methos shook his head. “No. My friend said you collapsed and then she hit you.”

Zhara stared at him. “But.... I’m not injured. Anywhere. I don’t remember any hospital.”

“You died, Zhara. The attempted strangulation, whatever they shot you with, and the adrenaline surge from running caused your body to shut down.”

“But I’m.... not dead. Or hurt. Or even bruised. How can that be?”

“You’re immortal unless someone were to cut off your head.”

Her slender fingers flew to touch her throat. “Immortal? Come on, you’re joking.”

“No.” Never one to sugarcoat the truth, Methos pulled out a knife.

Alarmed, Zhara tried to shut the bathroom door on him, but he stopped it with his foot and pushed it open. He grabbed her right arm, held it over the sink, and cut her forearm.

“Don’t talk, watch,” he commanded.

Her mouth moved as if she was going to protest. To stop her, he grabbed her and made her look. She gasped as she saw the lightning stitch up the wound. “What.... I can feel that!”‘

Methos released her and stepped back. Zhara looked at her now-healed arm, then at him. “This is real.”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

He snorted. “I’ve been wondering that for years.”

“You’re like me.” Zhara stepped out of the bathroom. “That’s why you cut me; why your friend brought me to you. This is real. My God, this is real.”

She fainted.

Methos did not bother to stop her fall as she collapsed. The hallway was clear of any obstructions, and if she hit her head, she would live. She wound up obstructing the doorway to the bathroom.

Methos stepped around her, rinsed off his knife, and pocketed it before retreating to the living room and calling Duncan. The sooner he passed Zhara off, the better his life would be, he thought. She was someone else’s problem; he did not need or want a new student. He batted down the flare of attraction with practiced ease, even as a voice told him it would easier to convince her to date him if they weren’t teacher and student.

“You could teach her,” Duncan argued.

“She was running away and nearly got hit by a car. She needs to be in Seacouver for her safety and mine,” Methos argued. “A cult called the Tribe branded her; I’m certain she was running away from them.”

Duncan muttered an oath. “I’ve heard about them. She’ll need a therapist, but you can do that as well as me.”

“You have more patience for teaching students. Besides, you don’t want her picking up my bad habits.”

“Your bad habits have kept us both alive,” Duncan reminded him.

“That may be, but she’ll be better in your hands than mine. She needs someone who won’t tell her to ‘suck it up; I’ve been through worse.’”

Duncan groaned at that. “You would.” He took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll be there in a half hour. What’s her name?”

“Zhara John. Bring a pair of slippers or socks with you; she lost her shoes. She’ll also need a coat or jacket; she’s wearing a mini-dress.”

“Katy left some clothes here last night when I told her we were done; she left in a huff.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not,” Duncan admitted, sounding resigned. “You were right; she was too possessive. Her insistence I tell her where I’ll be at all hours of the day and then throwing a fit when I wasn’t able to return her texts promptly was the last straw. I’ll return her things later this week, but for now, we’ll see if they fit Zhara.”

Glad Duncan could not see him, Methos allowed himself a fist pump. “I wondered how you’d explain Zhara.”

“Now I don’t have to, at least not to Katy. Speaking of Zhara, make sure she knows I’m coming. I don’t want to be a surprise.”

Zhara recovered in time to hear Methos confirm, “Yes, she’ll be ready. Thanks, Duncan.”

“You’re passing me off to someone else? Why can’t you help me?” Zhara demanded.

“Because I’m no one’s teacher.” Methos pocketed his phone and studied her.

“But I know you!”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow. “All you know is my name, the parts of this house you’ve seen, and that I’m living here. You don’t know if I own it or if this is an Airbnb. You don’t know if I’m a serial killer.”

“If what you said about ‘immortal until decapitated’ is true, then you could’ve taken my head while I lay there dead. I’d have never known the difference. The fact you didn’t tells me you want me to live. That tells me if you want to kill me later, you’re going through a lot of effort to earn my trust.”

Methos winced at that logic. _You always prefer the smart ones,_ a voice in his head whispered. Ignoring it, he focused on Zhara.

“Why would you want to take my head, anyway?”

“Immortals play a Game in which the winner gains the power of the vanquished immortal. We define power as knowledge and skills. The ultimate Prize is the collected power of all the immortals who ever lived.”

Zhara stared at him, mouth gaping open in shock. “And you know this, and you don’t want to help me?”

“I _am_ helping you. I’m introducing you to someone who has the patience to put up with you while you ask the million and one questions that I’m sick of answering.”

Zhara cocked her head. “Whoever you lost, I’m sorry I remind you of them.”

Caught by that, Methos drew in a breath. He had not consciously made the connection before, but she did remind him of one of his wives. Recognizing that complicated his attraction to her.

“Duncan will be here in twenty minutes. Did you want to eat something before he shows up?”

“No, thanks.” She flashed a smile. “I already feel like I’m half-prepared to meet someone new; don’t want to compound it.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I know you said you don’t have the patience to answer a lot of my questions,” Zhara began, “but... is there anything I should know before I go?”

“Holy Ground is sacred—no fighting allowed. Pay attention to the warning in your head; it’s how you know another of our kind is near. And whoever branded you will want you back.”

Zhara’s head jerked up. “You searched me?”

“We wanted to see if you had any ID.”

“My father branded me when I was a kid. I grew up in a cult. I thought I got out, but someone led me back there. They branded me again.” Memory of what happened to her flashed across her face.

“How far away is this cult?”

“Not far,” Zhara said bitterly. “This neighborhood is full of the members, or it used to be, when I was growing up. The house I was at was through the woods that separate this subdivision from the other one. You have the house with the glass boat lift down to the lake?”

Surprised at her assessment, Methos nodded. “You’ve been here.”

“Yes. This was my aunt’s house.” She drew a deep breath. “Guess it’s a good thing you called a friend.”

“Why did they brand you?”

“Women belong to the Tribe,” she intoned. “The Tribe takes care of its own.” She rolled her eyes. “Which amounts to hell.”

“You didn’t go back by choice.”

She shook her head. “No. Someone I thought was a friend invited me to a party.” She glanced down at her dress. “I don’t go around wearing this shit. But we were party-hopping, and I trusted....”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe your friend can help me figure out how to reconstruct my entire life. My old one clearly was not the warm, supporting life I thought it was.”

“What did you do before?”

“I’m a massage therapist. Not the kind that ends in a ‘happy ending,’ though my father would love it if that was the kind I did. Then he could preach about how he was saving my soul from the evils of prostitution even while he facilitates it.”

“An extremist?”

“And then some.” She drew in a breath. “John Moten-Carr is my father.”

Methos’s eyes widened as he recognized the name of a popular megachurch leader. “The Light and Way Community Church.”

“That’s the one,” she said. “The Tribe is the shadow council, made up of his rich and powerful friends. They were the Venetian Hills Church when I was a kid, when the headquarters was back east in Torago. I was eleven when I ran away; I didn’t want to be indoctrinated when I was twelve, like my father was talking. Indoctrination starts with a second branding, in case you were wondering.” She let out a breath as she shook her head. “Should’ve gotten out of the damned car when I saw the lake, but I thought I’d be ok.” Zhara looked at Methos. “Guess that’s more info about me you don’t care to know.”

He half-smiled even as he admired her strength and resilience. The flame of desire deepened, and he did his best to ignore it. “You needed to say it.”

She considered that for a moment. “Thanks for listening. Tell your friend who brought me here thanks for me, if you talk to her.”

“I will.”

“How come she couldn’t stay? I would’ve loved to thank her.”

“She had other business.”

Zhara heard his closed tone and nodded her understanding.

Duncan’s Presence, as familiar as his own after the events in Bordeaux, resounded in Methos’s head a brief time later. He watched as Zhara winced at the sensation.

“Ouch,” she griped. “And I thought migraines were hell.”

Ignoring her comment, he opened the door at Duncan’s perfunctory knock, then made the introductions. Duncan charmed Zhara, putting her at ease. He had her bundled into his SUV and headed down to Seacouver within fifteen minutes of his arrival.

Methos watched them drive away, then turned to stare at his living room. He swore as he realized Zhara had, in the brief time she had been in his company, wormed her way into his thoughts. He wanted to ensure the cult from which she had escaped would not pose a threat to her or anyone else. Ensuring her safety meant she would be freer to exploring possibilities with him.

 _Guess she won’t be someone else’s problem entirely,_ he thought, and went to find his laptop to do some research.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback much appreciated, whether it's kudos, comments, constructive criticism, or keyboard smashes.


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